


Witch Hunt at Kirkwall High

by cybrellus



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 17:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1696268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybrellus/pseuds/cybrellus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hawkes were an average middle-class family until they were evacuated from war-torn Ferelden to the religious city of Kirkwall. Brothers Garrett and Carver get on the wrong side of the law working for the lyrium drug lord who paid for their immigration papers. Bethany becomes an activist in the mages' rights movement. Religious tensions stir among their teachers. With the help of stalwart policewoman Aveline, notorious hacker Isabela, and the kid from the wrong side of the tracks, Fenris, the three siblings must learn to navigate the most hostile environment of all: high school. Not your average high school AU. Tags will change as updates happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Witch Hunt at Kirkwall High

### First Day

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Orsino, introduced Garrett to the class by pronouncing the “e” in Hawke. “It's just Hawke. Like the bird,” Garrett mumbled. He knew he was signing his death warrant. He would be known as Hawke, like the bird, for the next two years. He tried learning faces and names during roll call, but there were too many. Soon Orsino was moving on to announcements, speaking too quickly and fidgeting his long, tapered fingers. “A reminder that any student who violates the dress code will be sent home and penalized for any classes missed. This is your first warning, Isabela.” He glared at the girl sitting on Garrett's left, whose midriff-baring tanktop left little to the imagination.

She looked up from her laptop and gave Garrett a saucy wink.

“Yes, Sebastian?” Orsino asked a redheaded boy in the front row who had raised his hand.

“Sir, you seem to have forgotten the Morning Chant.” Garrett couldn't see his redhead's face, but he wore a neatly pressed white polo and khakis.

“Ah. Yes. Would you lead us, Mr. Vael? I'm sure you have a verse prepared.” A grimace played about Orsino's lips.

“It would be my honor.” Sebastian stood up in front of the room and bowed his head. “The Canticle of Benedictions, Verse 4. Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do no falter...”

Garrett glanced around the room. Other students bowed their heads and clasped their hands in prayer. Some even moved their lips along with the verse. He had never seen anything like this at school in Ferelden.

There was one boy in the back who kept his eyes open and his arms crossed. Garrett caught a glance of sandy hair pulled back in a ponytail before turning to face the front of the room. The venom in the boy's eyes made Garrett feel like he was violating some holy law just by looking at him. But bowing his head as Sebastian finished the Chant didn't make him feel any better.

Later, he found Bethany and Carver in the cafeteria.

“I told you two to pack your lunches,” Bethany said as her brothers picked forlornly at dry meatloaf, steamed carrots that were practically white, and moldy-smelling bread. “But you were both too lazy to even make a sandwich!”

“A sandwich is not enough fuel if I'm going to make the football team today,” Carver said. “If they're going to take me halfway through the season, I've got to be on top of my game.”

“I'm not sure this would be enough fuel to light a candle, Carve.” Garrett made a face as he pushed his tray across the table. “You're welcome to polish mine off. Maybe if I ask nicely Mum will make me lunch tomorrow.”

“You know she has enough on her mind,” Bethany chided.

The three Hawkes were silent for a few moments before Garrett asked in a low voice, “So, did they do the Chant in sophomore homeroom as well?”

“By the Fade, I was squirming my pants off,” Bethany muttered. “Our homeroom teacher started on this passage about the pride of ancient magisters and the Black City. I swear she looked right at me on the last verse. Carver was squirming too, because he can't sit still and shut up for more than ten minutes.”

Before her twin could say anything, a small voice chimed from behind Garrett: “Err, excuse me. Bethany? Would—well, would it be alright if I sat here? With you. I mean, I suppose if I'm sitting here I'll be sitting with you anyway, I can't exactly be sitting without you... ahem.”

Garrett turned. A small girl with short black hair stood with a tray, practically trembling with nerves. Her face was tattooed in the manner of the Dalish. “Of course you can sit with us,” Bethany said with a smile. “Merrill, isn't it? These are my brothers.”

“Oh!” Merrill sat down next to Bethany. “Well, I do see a family resemblance, now that you mention it... I don't have any siblings, is it very nice? I mean... oh.” Her face flushed scarlet. “I should just stop talking.”

“That's alright.” Garrett flashed a smile. “Carver, on the other hand, loves the sound of his own voice. Maybe you should keep going just so he doesn't bore us to death.”  
Carver responded to his brother with a swift punch in the arm. “Why are you such a cock?” he hissed.

“Oh my!” Garrett rubbed his bicep. He would never admit it, but his little brother's punches were like getting smashed by a lead pipe. “My brother only gets this way when he's trying to impress a lady. Better watch out, Merrill!”

Merrill went an even deeper shade of red at this, but let out a laugh as Carver struck Garrett again. “If you were wondering, they're always like this,” Bethany said with a sigh.

They finished lunch and put their trays away. Garrett noticed the stares that they gathered as they walked across the cafeteria, and realized they were meant for Merrill. He wondered if it was her tattoos—but there was an entire table of Dalish, a group of quiet teenagers wearing earthy colors and eating piles of vegetables, and they didn't seem to take shit from anyone. They stuck together, though. Merrill was the only one with a tattooed face outside of their circle.

No, Garrett realized—there was one other. As the Hawke siblings and Merrill walked down the hall to their lockers, Garrett saw him: a slender young man whose dark skin was tattooed with spidery designs that continued down his face to his neck and arms. His shoulders were bared by a dark leather vest studded with tiny spikes. His hair was bleached white, and his lower lip shone with two silver piercings, like fangs. Any passerby seemed to avoid brushing shoulders with him.

Except for Carver, who bumped right into him.

“Watch where you're going, freak,” Carver hissed.

Merrill let out a tiny yelp.

The boy's green eyes narrowed. “What... did you call me?” His voice was a surprisingly low growl. He glared up at Carver, who was nearly half a foot taller. Garrett and Bethany exchanged looks.

“I said,” Carver said, a bit too loudly, “that you're a punk-ass tattooed freak.”

Faster than anyone could react, the tattooed boy slugged Carver across the face. Carver responded blindly, with a fist to his gut. His opponent side-stepped quickly, receiving only a glancing blow on the side, and tried to sweep Carver's legs out from under him. Carver didn't budge, however, and rushed the smaller boy, knocking him to the ground. He wound up and smashed his fist into the tattooed face, where green eyes betrayed not a trace of pain.

Before Carver could land another blow, Garrett grabbed his arm. “Don't do this, brother,” he said softly.

Carver paused. He was stronger than Garrett—anyone could tell by looking at his muscular frame—but his older brother was holding him back.

“This is your brother, eh?” the tattooed boy asked, locking eyes with Garrett. “And they call me a wild dog. Best learn to keep this pup under control.”

“I—what?” Carver moved his arm to punch him again, but felt Garrett holding his arm.

“Words, Carver,” his brother reminded. “Use them.”

Carver tried again. “You hit me.”

“I was commenting on your bark, not your bite.” The boy easily pushed Carver off and stood up, then nodded to someone behind Garrett. “Ms. Stannard.”

Garrett turned to face a woman with ice-cold eyes and white-blonde hair who looked like she belonged in an army barracks, not a classroom. “Gentlemen. I should have you both suspended.”

Garrett's mind raced. Leandra would not be happy about that. “Ma'am, my brother was attacked by this... delinquent...”

“I saw what happened. Unfortunately, I know that Fenris never attacks unless provoked. I'm sure it won't happen again.” Fenris met her glare head-on. “As for you, Carver. For the next month, you will not be permitted to stay on school grounds for non-academic reasons. Club meetings or sports practices are off-limits.”

Carver's face lit up with rage, but he bit his lip and said nothing. After Stannard had left, Carver stalked over to his locker and rammed his fist into the metal door.

“It could have been so much worse,” Bethany said. “It sounded like she won't even tell Mum about it.”

“Like I care about Mum,” Carver growled. “I'm banned from the football team and I haven't even shown up to a practice yet. That bitch! I can't believe I have to sit in homeroom and listen to her for the rest of the semester.”

“Well, at least your suspension is just for a month. It will give you time to get to know the city, start your classes strong, and then you can try out for the team when this blows over.”

“When the season's halfway done? Don't be an idiot.”

Garrett resisted the urge to tell his brother that he was the idiot. He was impressed that Bethany could stand to talk to him. “Merrill,” he said, “who was that guy, anyway?”

“Fenris?” Merrill let out a shiver. “Someone you don't want to cross again.”

“Didn't his parents teach him any manners?” Garrett said. “I mean, it's clear that our parents failed Carver on that front, but I expect everyone else to behave a bit nicer...”

“Well, from what I've heard, he doesn't have any parents. He's a ward of the state, technically.”

“Oh. Well, now I just feel like an ass.”

“That's because you are one, Gar,” Bethany chimed in.

The rest of the day was a blur. Garrett was behind in math, so he spent the entire class scribbling down notes on derivatives that he didn't understand. History, however, was a breeze. His father was a history buff, and loved telling stories from the Tevinter Imperium, or legends from the ancient Dalish...

Had been. Used to. Garrett paused in the middle of his notes. Three years and he still sometimes forgot that Malcolm was gone. For the first time in his memory, Garrett didn't want school to end, because that would mean returning to the hovel in Lowtown where his mother would be sitting, alone, listening to Gamlen's drunken ramblings, and the Hawkes would all think about cold, wet Ferelden, and Malcolm, and how he used to drape a bedsheet around himself like a robe and impersonate Archon Hessarian, the great magister of old...

An hour or so later, the bell rang and the Hawke siblings began the walk home in silence. Garrett wondered if they, too, were thinking about Malcolm. Or maybe Bethany was thinking about her favorite coffee shop back home, where a red-headed hipster girl strummed on a guitar and sang folksy renditions of Chantric hymns. And maybe Carver was thinking about the girl he'd taken out to the movies just a week before Lothering was burned. Garrett didn't ask.

Gamlen was out when they got back. Leandra was trying to clean the kitchen. There were layers of grime caked onto the oven and sink.

“You don't have to clean up his messes, Mum,” Bethany said softly.

“How am I supposed to function in this house if I don't?” Leandra looked tired, and older than Garrett had ever realized. “I've worked with worse in Ferelden, I suppose. I can do it again.”

Bethany sighed. “At least let me help you.”

“Well,” Carver said. “If I'm not playing football today, I'm going for a run.” He disappeared into the room that he and Garrett shared to change.

“Not playing football today?” Leandra frowned. “What's that about? He was so excited to join the team here.”

“They, err, won't let him try out,” Garrett said. “It's the middle of the season, you know. Excuse me a moment.” He opened the door into their room without knocking and shut it as quickly as he could without making a sound. “Carve! This is perfect, isn't it? If you're not at practice, we have time to go meet with you-know-who.”

“I don't know who, actually.” Carver sat on the bunkbed and tied his running shoes.

“Athenril! The bar she mentioned—the Hanged Man? We have to go there. She said the longer we make her wait, the harder she's going to make our job.”  
Carver clenched his fists. “Damnit, Garrett. I sure as hell don't want to go. But I can't let you be the bigger man, can I?”

“That's my boy. Now, change into something a little flashier. We're going to a bar, after all!”


End file.
